


A Sense About Him

by madlyhazel



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Chance Meetings, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Dates, One Shot, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 05:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8089333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlyhazel/pseuds/madlyhazel
Summary: What kind of man, especially one so dressed up, stops you for directions in broad daylight? He's confused, he's lost, and he's sincere. It couldn't hurt to make a bit of coin off of him, but what happens when he keeps coming back for help?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkChocolateCheesecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkChocolateCheesecake/gifts).



Being a tavern maid had its very unique set of pros and cons. More often than not, it included you dealing with drunkards at all times of day and fighting back against being accosted by them. The men were grabby, and the few women who came were so, so loud. On the flipside, however, you often received handsome gratuities, and your employer paid well. Thus, you could afford decent housing and good food. All in all, the job was horrid, but you stayed in it for the money.

Was it really so horrible to be in it for coin? A fair number of people pursued their greed for far worse reasons, so you found yours to be rather tame. If you couldn’t afford an expensive education to bring in money, you would find the next best thing. And here you were, fiddling with the keys and shoving them in the old, rusted lock of the tavern.

The lock was very difficult to open, but your employer refused to replace it on the terms that if someone with keys couldn’t open it, then someone without keys certainly couldn’t open it. And that same employer had decided to graciously tell you last night that you would have to come in early to clean up after some rowdy customers, since he had plans with his wife and simply couldn’t make it. You hid your anger under a well-placed smile, and now here you were.

Jiggling the key in, you grabbed the handle and lifted while you turned. It took plenty of exertion, but slowly the key turned itself over, and the door was open. Now was the matter of getting it back out of the damn lock. Sucking in a deep breath, you placed your foot against the door and sharply pulled. With a crunch and pop, the key flew out, causing you to stumble back.

“Perhaps you should get that lock looked at.”

You whipped your head in the direction of the voice, cocking up an eyebrow. Before you stood a man quite regally dressed. A heavy blue overcoat covered the majority of his form, and an even heavier black cape hung off of that. There were gold embellishments here and there, and the puffed cravat and peeking laced sleeves screamed wealth. And not to mention the tricorn hat. How pretentious could one get?

You lightly huffed, tugging up the sleeves of your blouse to your elbows. “Believe me, I’ve tried.” You juggled the key in your hand, raising an eyebrow at him as you went to open the door. “What’s a Londoner like yourself doing in this part of Boston?”

‘This part of Boston’ referring to the general muck and grime that covered the area. While this wasn’t the section you lived in, you were unfortunate enough to work here. It wasn’t too bad, with most of the criminal activity being kept at relative bay by the Redcoats (when they actually did their damn jobs). It just wasn’t a place you expected someone of clearly high social standing to be.

The man looked a bit surprised. “What makes you assume I’m from London?”

“I talk to enough Englishmen every day to be able to know. I may be a Bostonian, but I can tell my Cockneys from my Cornish.”

He softly hummed, giving a nod. You stared at him for a few moments, halfway hanging out of the threshold of the tavern. The man was merely watching you, a simple smile on his face. Needless to say, it made you a little uncomfortable, but you weren’t about to show it. So you observed him right back, an eyebrow rising.

“Forgive me,” he apologized, tipping his hat sheepishly, “I do believe I was distracted. Boston is a rather difficult place to navigate for someone like myself, and I was thinking how I’d find my way back.”

You gave a little shrug, motioning your head inside. “I can probably help you. Come on in, yeah? I have some cleaning to do.”

You left the door open for him, letting yourself inside. Indeed, it looked like whatever rowdy group had come by last night had left the place a mess. It wouldn’t be too difficult, but overturned chairs, spilled tankards, and glass shards were bothersome. You let out an annoyed sigh, heading behind the bar to fetch the broom.

When you started to make your way over to the largest mess, you noted how the Londoner seemed to be staring at the hazard with a curious look. You set to sweeping, turning your head in his direction just enough to show you were intent on speaking with him.

“Sorry about the mess. It isn’t normally like this. Some customers last night just decided to give me some more work.” You didn’t offer him a chance to respond, and instead continued on, “Where are you headed to, anyways?”

“I was off to meet some colleagues at the Old State House.”

Ugh, colleagues. He could say business partners or friends or anything else, but he chose to use that word. Further evidence this man was not a local by any means, nor a man of your lacking social status. You sniffed at him. “You’re way off, then. Don’t even know how you ended up down here.”

He sighed in mild agitation. “The directions I were given were a little less than helpful.”

You snorted, leaning the broom up against a table so you could fetch the dustpan. “The Old State House is for those who can afford wine and a good time. If you took one look around here you’d know all of these sods are too poor to afford anything other than mead. ‘S why they come here instead.”

The Londoner looked a little a bit miffed at your boldness, but sealed his lips tight, likely biting back any retorts. You swept up the broken glass into the dustpan, setting in on the table as you moved to pick up the fallen tankards. “I suppose I could tell you how to get there, though.”

When you rose up, holding two mugs in each hand by their handles, he was looking at you expectantly. Oh, the poor thing. Did he really think you were going to let him off so easily? You were in this for coin, and you might as well embarrass him in the process. Someone on such a high standing as himself could stand a bit of humility.

“For a price,” you added, offering a shrug as you brought the tankards to the bar. Behind you, you could hear a small grunt of indignation.

“Is that really necessary?”

You turned to him, smiling pleasantly. “What? Technically, the tavern is open. Which means anything given here has to be paid for. And I’m offering information.”

His blue eyes narrowed, and you could see his jaw working beneath the skin. Behind his back, his hands were no doubt clasped tightly. You were surprised he was able to maintain such composure, even with your relentless berating of him.

“Or you could find someone else on the street. But I’m going to go out on a limb here and say they’re going to ask for the same thing. So where do you want to try your luck?”

The man sighed, his shoulders sinking in resignation. “Very well. What’ll the price be?”

“Mm… I’d say, two shillings.”

“Certainly.” God, no hesitation! What kind of money did this man hold? You might be able to guarantee yourself a good steak dinner at this point. But that didn’t mean you were done.

“And that hat of yours.”

Oh, he reacted to that. His eyes went wide, and he straightened up. “My—What? You want my hat?”

“Yeah, why not?” You fixed a chair, tucking it in place beneath the wooden table. “If you can afford giving me two bob notes, you can afford giving me that hat. I’m pretty sure you can buy yourself a new one, yeah?”

He still didn’t look entirely convinced. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you my hat.”

“Why? Got a bald spot you want to cover? That’s what wigs are for.”

It seemed your jests weren’t going to affect him. “Do you steal clothing of the back of every man you meet?”

You chuckled. “No. Just the rich ones. Come on, it’s just a hat. I think one like that would look rather nice on me, yeah?”

His nostrils flared, and one of his hands came from behind his hat to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You… Ugh, very well. You may _borrow_ it.”

“I didn’t ask to—“

“You’re borrowing it and nothing more, do you understand?” The glint in his eyes was quite menacing. “I plan to come back at a later point, and it will be returned to me.”

Oh, well. You wouldn’t get to keep it, but at least it would make a fun decoration for the night. “Alright, alright. Now let’s get the payment, and I’ll be sending you off.”

The man pulled his coin purse from some pocket beneath that massive coat of his, and he plucked two coins from it, placing them in your outstretched hand. The fact that he had two actual shillings was pretty shocking. You expected him to maybe hand you several pennies and maybe even more farthings, but instead he had two shillings. Just who was this man, brandishing all this coin?

You fiddled with the coins, looking up at his expectantly. With great reluctance, he reached up and pulled the tricorn from his head, revealing smooth, dark hair beneath. It was carefully placed in your other hand, and you quickly moved to don it. You didn’t often wear hat, but you were certain you could get used to this. The man did not look amused.

“Now, how am I to get to the Old State House?”

Straight to business, wasn’t he? Tucking the shillings into your own coin purse, which now looked that much better with their additions, you gave him a pleasant smile.

“You’re rather south of there. I recommend you head west of here until you hit the river, then head straight north. As for going through south Boston unscathed, take this street back down until you reach the next main, and then follow that west. It’s quite a bit safer than going up, trust me.” You tapped your chin, considering the map you’d formed in your head. “Once you get up north, you should be able to find your way pretty easy. The more nice-looking red buildings you see, the closer you are.”

The man nodded at your instructions, considering them in his head. You offered a few more helpful hints as to how to reach his destination, and he soon seemed like he had the basic idea of where he was going. Still, he looked like he was rather unhappy about leaving his hat behind.

So you offered him your name. It likely wouldn’t be worth much to him, but at least he would be able to find you when he did need to come back and collect his hat.

“And you are?”

His cool eyes looked over your face for a few moments. “… Haytham Kenway.” After a few moments, he smirked. “Under better terms, I would have considered it a pleasure to meet you.”

“Same to you,” was your sharp response, but you held a grin on your face. At least he could take a bit of teasing. Most other rich folk would have stormed out of here by now.

“Quite. Well, then,” he took in a deep breath, dipping his head, “I’ll find myself on my way. Do be careful with my hat, won’t you?”

“I can’t guarantee it.”

“Then try.” And then he was heading out the door, his swishing cape being the last thing you saw of him. You adjusted the tricorn on your head, humming softly. Well, you certainly hadn’t expected your morning to turn out like this, but it was definitely a welcome change. If you were honest with yourself, you were a bit excited to see the man’s face again. Haytham, was it? The name was just as ridiculously aristocratic as he was, but it did run off the tongue well.

You would be seeing Mr. Haytham Kenway again. What an interesting prospect.

 

* * *

 

 

The night went extremely well for you. Customers enjoyed the hat, and some found it silly enough to give you extra gratuity. Your employer didn’t mind it either, saying so long as it didn’t cause any issues, you could wear it. Perhaps Mr. Kenway’s hat was some lucky object, and that was why he had been so reluctant to hand it over. Of course, you wouldn’t be keeping it for much longer, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy it while you had it.

You’d set the tricorn behind the bar for now, since the night was getting quite a bit more busy and you didn’t want to lose it. Some drunk sod would probably pull it off of your head and ask for something ridiculous in return. To avoid such an annoyance, you’d tucked it away for later use, or until its owner came to pick it up.

How was the Londoner’s luck going, then? While you weren’t terribly concerned, you did hope he found his way to the Old State House with little trouble. He might have not had his hat, but surely he didn’t run into too much trouble. Or perhaps Mr. Kenway had terrible luck, perhaps from a run-in with a witch, and some old hag in a cabin in the swamps of the southern colonies had told him he needed to find a good luck charm.

Unlikely, but you could amuse yourself. You really doubted that he had been to South Carolina or Georgia, since he was already so terribly lost in someplace like Boston. But what did you know? Perhaps he was someone with expenses he could spend on frivolous trips and the like. He’d probably been to several places outside of London, the snob.

Speak of the devil, here came the man of the night. Haytham entered through the doors of the tavern, scrunching up his nose at the smell of tobacco that hung heavy in the air. Few paid much attention to the man, though there were a few odd glances his way. Really, if he wanted to blend in with the common folk, he could at least shed the first two layers he wore.

He gingerly navigated his way through the hustle and bustle of the tavern, nudging shoulders out of the way with large hands. You merely stood at the opposite end of the business, one hand on your hip and pitcher full of beer in your other. As he approached you, he looked a little perturbed to not see the tricorn on your head. He stopped a few feet from you, blue eyes roving over your uncovered hair.

“Where is…?” He didn’t bother to finish his sentence, his body language tense. You offered him a placating smile, quirking up a brow.

“Your hat?” You shrugged, the beer in the pitcher threatening to spill out. “I traded it off to someone in exchange for a favor.”

“You what.”

You snorted. “Yeah. This customer I was serving commented on how much he liked the hat, and I needed a favor done. Seems like a fair trade to me.”

You could see his hands flexing at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching. Ah, well, you should probably stop bothering him before something bad did happen. He was a pretty well-mannered fellow, but no doubt he was going to lose his temper fairly soon.

“I’m kidding,” you explained, motioning to the bar, “It’s behind there. I didn’t want someone to steal it. Just as well, I wouldn’t break a promise with a man who has so many weapons at his disposal.” You gave a pointed look toward his sabre and pistol.

“Clearly, you have a rich sense of humor.”

You clicked your tongue, frowning at him. “Aw, come on. Surely you can take a joke.”

He simply stared cooly down at you, his gaze firm. Oh well, perhaps today was not the time to jest. You beckoned him along, making your way toward the bar so you could fetch him his prized possession. You still couldn’t see why he was so attached to it, but you shouldn’t be judging. Especially if he could easily wave that gun of his in your face.

You placed the pitcher of beer on the bartop, ducking behind the furniture itself to pull the tricorn hat from one of the shelves. He snatched it from your hands the minute you help it out to him, immediately affixing it atop his head. You snorted, placing your hands on your hips.

“Happy?”

“Yes, quite.” He smoothed out the front of his jacket, offering a pleasant smile down to you. You merely stared up at him, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Perhaps, if I am of need of it in the future, I could still come to you for directions?”

What? Even though you’d taken money and his hat from him in exchange, he still was willing to work with you? Certainly not something you expected, but perhaps he was in need of help.

Or he was severely lacking in friends.

You snorted, grinning up at him. “My price still stands the same.”

“Including my…?”

You gave a firm nod. “Of course. It’s an awfully nice hat, Mr. Kenway.”

He sighed his annoyance through his nose, his lips thinning out. “I suppose that can be arranged. Now, I must be on my way.”

You picked up the pitcher of beer, slightly pushing it toward him. “Not stopping by for a drink?”

“Perhaps some other time.” And just like that, he was off. Weaving and bobbing through the crowd, he slipped out of the door and into the night.

Well, this day had definitely been one of the more interesting ones you’ve experienced. A Londoner stops you in the street, asking for help, and gives you whatever you ask for in exchange for information. Then the same aristocrat offers a deal: your information in exchange for his money and hat. It was certainly an odd setup, but one that you were not opposed to. You would be able to make some pretty coin and look good in the process.

Now all that was left to do was wait for the next time Haytham got lost. And you were impatient.

 

* * *

 

 

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long. Later into the week, Haytham came to the tavern early in the day, when only the most alcoholic of patrons were being served. He asked for directions to Faneuil Hall, and a bit of money and his hat had him on his way. He still seemed a bit reluctant to part with the tricorn, but you told him that he had no deal if it wasn’t included.

Of course, that night, he came to retrieve it. No amount of bartering could keep it in your hands, and you were soon hatless. It wasn’t a problem, of course, because it wasn’t long before he came back for directions again. And again. And again.

You were beginning to think, after the fourth time, that Haytham wasn’t lost at all. After all, he had asked you where the Old State House was again. Surely someone couldn’t forget how to find a pretty popular building so easily.

Either his colleagues gave horrible directions, he had no sense of direction, or he found it enjoyable to talk with you.

And you had to admit, you liked talking to him as well.

“Back again, Mr. Kenway?”

You acknowledged him before he’d even stepped through the doorway. It was a little later into the day, so the tavern was somewhat busier. Still, you were able to easily make time for him, and the two of you soon took a seat in the far corner of the building.

He took off his hat and set it on the table, smoothing back his hair. “Actually, before we begin, could I have a half-pint of dark ale?” He pulled out a penny, passing it your way.

You quickly collected the coin, standing up and heading toward the bar. Soon, a smaller tankard was full, and he was idly sipping it while explaining today’s dilemma.

“Seems I’m to meet in a building by the Boston Common. Where might that be?”

You hummed softly, idly tracing the woodwork of the table. “Mind telling me what the name of the building you’re heading to is? I could tell you how to get there instead.”

“I’m afraid it’s slipped my mind. Terrible shame, really.” He was smirking at you from behind his tankard. He knew that you knew he wasn’t lost in the least. He knew damn well how to get to the park. And now that you’d stopped asking money of him the past two times, he could ask you directions all he wanted without worrying about putting a hole in his purse. He just had a hat to lose.

You leaned back in your seat, crossing your legs beneath your skirts. “Don’t you have anything better to be doing than hounding a barmaid? As pleasant as I find your company, surely someone like you has a job to be doing.”

Haytham set his mug down, quirking up a thick eyebrow toward you. “Someone like me?”

“Someone who is always on the move, always meeting business partners, and always carrying more than one weapon. Are you not busy?”

He leans forward across the table, his finger tracing the wet rim of the mug. “I find that it’s quite easy to make room in my schedule for a woman whom I enjoy speaking to.” His blue eyes glance over your features. “Is it such a sin to want to spend time in beautiful company?”

“It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

He barked out a laugh, relaxing back into his seat. “I see that you are not easily swayed. My apologies.”

“I could be swayed,” you muse, resting you chin in your palm, “If the man doing the swaying had any sense about him at all.”

“You wound me.” He sipped from his tankard, his grin cheeky.

Haytham was definitely a pretty thing to look at. He had handsome features; his jaw was strong, his nose broad, and his lips were very tempting. Not to mention those eyes of his. Perhaps that’s why you were so willing to continue on this charade. Simply because he was able to convince you with a single look from those grey eyes.

But you were not a woman who was so easy to trap. If he was going to flirt, he would have to work for it. You had no business getting involved with this Londoner, after all, especially one so involved with clearly important matters. You could easily get dragged into a case you wanted no part of, should you pursue his affections. So it was better to play it careful. To give him the directions he didn’t need and entertain him.

“Would you still like directions to the Boston Common, at least?”

He hummed, leaning his strong back against the chair and crossing his leg at the ankle. One hand idly swished the mug, while the other found itself propped up on his thigh. “No, I suppose I do not. However—“ He offered a pointed gaze at the hat on the table. “I do believe I should at least compensate you for my bothersome company.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “… You’re letting me wear your hat tonight simply because you talked to me?”

“Exactly. I’ve offered to buy you your own, but since that seems insufficient, I might as well allow you to continue wearing it.”

Indeed, he had suggested that he could simply buy you a hat exactly like his not long ago. You had refused, saying it wouldn’t be the same. It had to be his hat, you’d said, otherwise it didn’t hold up the deal. You still didn’t expect him to be so willing to let you wear it in exchange for idle conversation.

After a few hesitant moments, you reached out, fingers gripping the edge of the tricorn and pulling it toward you. Watching him all the while, you placed it atop your head, fiddling with it until it was just right. Haytham’s eyes got a little darker, and his smile a little sweeter.

“You do look lovely in it.”

“You like a woman dressed in your clothes? _Mr. Kenway_ , you shouldn’t be so vocal about your interests.”

He huffed a chuckle, bringing the rim of the tankard to his lips. After a good portion of it was down, he offered a small shrug. “Is it so bad to be honest?”

That was the first time he’d made you lose your train of thought. You spluttered slightly, offering him an incredulous look. He only smiled back, those cool eyes unwavering. Once you gained a bit of your mind back, you crossed your arms.

“Honesty isn’t always good.”

“And yet somehow I find myself unable to keep up a lie around you.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up from your seat. You began shooing him, and he had an amused look on his face as he hurriedly finished the rest of his ale. “Get to work, Mr. Kenway! I have my own that I need to be tending to, and you’re of no help.”

He passed the now-empty tankard back to you, bowing at his waist. “If the lady says so. But I will be back tonight.”

A threat to kick him on the rump finally had him leaving the tavern, and you were stuck with an empty mug and the damned hat. How were you to have known you had already fallen into his web? You really needed to keep a better eye out for yourself. Sighing, you went toward the bar so you could clean the tankard with a rag and keep your thoughts away from Haytham.

 

* * *

 

Your thoughts weren’t allowed to stray for long, for the object of your agitation was quite suddenly in front of you. The tavern had grown very busy that night, and you hadn’t been able to tear your eyes away long enough from the customers to even notice that Haytham had arrived. He about scared the hell out of you, forcing you to swallow a scream and place a hand on your chest.

“Christ, Haytham!” you cried out, offering an offending look his way. He merely put up one hand, the other coming to grasp your shoulder to steady you.

“My apologies. Though I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call me by name.”

You huffed, letting him tail after you like a dog as you served customers. You didn’t have time to talk to him right now. Instead, you took the hat off of your head and held it out toward him, urging to take it. He didn’t reach for it.

“Sorry, but I’m really busy right now. I don’t have the time to entertain you.”

“I want you to keep the hat for the night.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him as you poured the ale in your pitcher in a drunken man’s tankard. “What for?”

He hummed, leaning a bit closer to you so he didn’t have to yell over the noise of the business. His hand curled around your shoulder, making you stiffen as he brought his mouth close to your ear. “In exchange, I would like to know the directions to your house.”

You sucked in saliva down the wrong pipe, causing you to cough up a storm. Covering your mouth, you shuffled around toward one of the walls of the tavern. Haytham patiently waited for you to cover, taking the pitcher from your hand so it didn’t spill. He set it on the windowsill before crossing his arms behind his back, looking at you pleasantly.

When your hacking finally ceased, you glared up at the Londoner. There was no real malice behind it, but you definitely were confused. “Let me understand this—you are willing to let me keep the hat—“ You held up the object in your other hand. “—in exchange for knowing how to get to my house?” You paused for a few moments. “Why?”

“If you’re willing, I’d like to take you out for a night.” When you did no more than stare up at him in disbelief, he chuckled, dipping his head down slightly. It was difficult to tell in the dim lighting of the tavern, but you swore you could see red tinging his cheeks. Seemed like he wasn’t as collected as you thought him to be.

Once he pulled his emotions back together, he brought his head back up. “Of course, you’re not required to. I just thought it could be nice. As pleasant as it is to talk to you every day, I would like to do it outside of a tavern for once.”

You stared at him for a few moments more before your hand came up to wipe away sweat from your brow. A man of high social standing and great wealth, one who was involved in likely important business and had work at almost all hours of the day, was offering to take you out on a date. What on earth had you done to catch his eye? Surely all you’d done was annoy him.

Day in and day out, you asked him for payment in exchange for your services. Sure, you’d stopped asking for coin a little while ago, but you still made off with his hat every time. There was no way he could enjoy such actions. Yet, here he was, standing before you looking like a gentleman. You could feel a heat rise to your face, and your free hand rose to cover your mouth as you averted your eyes.

You could hear him softly laugh, and the feeling of a hand grasping the one holding onto his hat caused you to start. He pushed the tricorn toward your chest, and a glance to his face revealed soft features. His hand slowly slipped away, briefly trailing down your arm before falling at his side.

“So?” His voice was extremely soft. You almost couldn’t hear him. “What are your thoughts?”

You’d told yourself you wouldn’t play so easily into this man’s hand. If he had so much power, it could be trouble to get involved with him. Regardless, he was so kind, and he was terribly handsome. How much could it hurt to indulge yourself, especially if it was for one night? If something came out of it, you would merely have to work with it and find a way to avoid any consequences that came your way.

“Very well.” You muttered, dropping your hand. You cleared your throat, moving to put the hat atop your head once more. It felt… Strange. “I… Ah—Do you want my address now, or…?”

“I think that would be best.”

So you hurriedly muttered it out to him, giving him basic directions. He watched you carefully, giving small nods every now and again. God, you’d never been so nervous. You were normally the one who’d be teasing him and brushing him off. Yet here you were, filled to the brim with anxiety. Perhaps God would take pity on you and strike you down with lightning tonight.

“And when would be the best day?”

He was really, serious, wasn’t he? “I suppose… Tuesday? The drunks usually are knocking themselves silly on Mondays, since they don’t drink on Sundays. Which means Tuesdays are generally a little less busy because they’re nursing hangovers.”

His shoulders shook in a silent laugh. “Very well. Tuesday it is. Thank you.”

He moved to turn away, and as a second thought, your hand latched onto the edge of his cape. He hummed curiously, turning around to give you a surprised look. You immediately retracted your offending appendage.

“I just… I apologize ahead of time if I don’t look quite the part. Standing next to you it’s… A little hard to compare. You always look so nice.”

His hand reached out, softly wrapping around the one that had latched onto him moments before. “Was that a compliment?”

You coughed. “I don’t know.”

“I’m confident you can praise me and not put yourself down at the same time. Just as well, you don’t need to worry.” He brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it. You whined low in your throat, free fingers clenching at your side. “I’ll prepare a dress for you.”

“You can’t--!”

But he had dropped your hand and was turning away, heading toward the door. “The night is young, and there is still business to tend to.” He looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “I’ll eagerly wait to see you again.”

Then he was gone, and you were left standing there clutching the hand he kissed to your chest. Your face burned, and the hat on your head was so heavy. Damn Haytham Kenway, and damn his charming attitude! You pinched the skin on your arm to bring you back to reality, and you were soon picking up to pitcher so you could finish tending to customers. You didn’t have time to be flustered over some handsome aristocrat. You had work to do.

 

* * *

 

 

You had been absolutely, horribly dreading Tuesday, yet here you were. You stood in the living room of your house, wearing one of your nicer dresses, even though Haytham had explicitly said he would bring one for you to wear. You’d even cleaned yourself up, hair styled and face fresh. You’d explained the situation to your employer, and he’d offered to let you take the whole day off. No, you’d insisted, you needed to work at least the day. If only to take your mind off your date for the night.

But he’d eventually shoved you out the door so you weren’t late, and now you were pacing the length of your living room, trying not to bite your nails. What business did you have going out for a night on the town, especially with someone of his standing? Something was going to happen and you were going to get wrapped up in it. What would you do then? You couldn’t just go back to work. What if Haytham had enemies? You would be kidnapped as soon as they saw you getting close to him. You would be found a week later in the mud, dead. Or perhaps they would burn your house down with you in it. Or maybe they—

You were forced out of your morbid musings by a knock on the door. You jumped, sucking down your fear and shuffling toward the door. Opening it revealed Haytham standing there, looking even better than he normally did.

It appeared his clothes had been freshly cleaned and pressed, and it looked like he’d shaved his face clear of any rogue stubble. His hair was neatly pulled back and tied in a beautiful red ribbon. You bit your lip, eyes unabashedly roving over his form. Beneath his arm was a bundle wrapped in stark-white linen.

“You never came to pick up your hat.”

Really, that was the first thing you could blurt out? That he hadn’t come for his hat the past few days? You cleared your throat, toying with the fabric of your dress.

“I’m sorry it’s just… I haven’t done something like this in a really long time. I’m a bit nervous.”

He only smiled down at you, taking the bundle from beneath his arm and holding it out to you. “It’s fine. Here—for you. Though your dress now is rather pretty.”

It really wasn’t, you thought. Sure, it was nicer than most of the clothing you owned, but surely he’d seen better. Still, it was a very genuine compliment. “Thank you.”

And you were off to change into the dress he’d bought. And what a dress it was.

The first thing that met your eyes was a vast sea of blue, and pulling out the dress showed just how intense it was. The fabric was so incredibly smooth that you were almost half-convinced it was silk. If it was, you would seriously need to talk with Haytham later on how much money he was allowed to spend on you. For now, however, you were just in sheer awe that you were touching something this fine.

The main gown itself was cobalt, dark and shiny and beautiful. Upon looking closer, you could see individually stitched Fleur de Lis in gold thread on the entire length of the gown. The lace apron white, stark against the dark fabric behind it. White ruffles also lined the stomacher and outside of the lace apron, rolling smoothly down the gown before continuing along its bottom.

It took a bit of wiggling to get into, and a lot of flexibility, but once it was over your bodice and shift, you were in awe. Looking into the mirror of your armoire, you admire yourself. It was stunning, and it fit rather nicely for not having been measured for it. Just as well, you didn’t think you would be able to afford taking it to a tailor for refitting.

An interesting point, you noted, was how low the cut of the dress was. It still covered you enough to avoid being indecent, but there was no doubt that it definitely showed a significant amount of skin. You did have a shawl you could likely use to cover it up, but why would you? If Haytham had chosen the gown with this in mind, you were going to use it against him. So, you picked up your handbag and headed back out into the living room.

He had been simply gazing around, admiring the little trinkets that lay in a shelf, and picking up the few books you had. While you didn’t have the education of some, you at least prided yourself in your ability to read and write to a decent extent. The man before you could likely read advanced essays with no problem, but at least you could compare to him in some way. Upon hearing your footsteps on the wood, he turned around.

My, did he look shocked. You could hear a heavy whoosh of breath escaping him, and he not-so-casually placed his hand on the shelf to brace himself. His eyes roved over your form, and you forced yourself not to shrink under his scrutiny. Instead, you boldly walked toward him, smile sly.

“Something the matter, Haytham?”

He immediately shook his head. “No, it’s just… The dress itself was beautiful, but on _you_ …” He let out a nervous laugh, those blue eyes of his meeting your face. “Forgive me, you’re very beautiful. I do admit you took my breath away.”

You slipped a free strand of hair behind your ear, willing the red on your cheeks to go away. “Thank you. Though, I’m a bit shocked you would spend so much on me. You don’t need to do that.”

“I seek only the best,” he ensured, before nodding his head toward the door, “If you’re ready, shall we be off? I do admit, it’s a bit warm in here.”

You chuckled, making your way toward the door. He opened it up for you, letting you outside with a gentle hand on your lower back. He cupped your hand as you stepped down the few steps that led up to your doorway, and you were soon met with a small nicker of horses.

“… A carriage, Haytham?”

“Only the best.”

Instead of the driver, he opened the door, helping you inside before settling himself next to you. Oh dear, it was very enclosed in here, and the sound of the door shutting caused you to suck in your breath. Haytham’s thigh was touching your own, and you could hear both of your breaths in the enclosed space. You could feet sweat pooling in unsavory places, and you had to soon fan yourself with your hand.

He took note of your discomfort. “Forgive me if it’s warm in here. The ride should be short, so, please, bear with it for just a little while.”

You gave a small nod, listening as Haytham tapped the roof of the carriage. Soon, the scenery outside was moving along, and you could feel the seat softly bumping beneath you as the carriage ran along the uneven road. Really, what must your neighbors think of you? You got into a nice carriage with a nice man while wearing a nice dress. Surely you’d soon be the talk amongst the ladies who had nothing better to do.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to your fate. It was only for a night. For one night, this man would treat you and you would go along with it. You would enjoy what people of his standing did, and then it would be over. You needn’t bother yourself with the thoughts of what others might think. For now, it was simply you and Haytham. And you would be damned if you didn’t enjoy this night.

 

* * *

 

 

Your night was filled with laughter, good conversation, a little bit of wine, and a lot of flirtation. Haytham had taken you around northern Boston, showing you places you already knew. The light in his eyes as he directed you about kept a smile on your face, however. He just looked so happy to have you by his side, and he dragged you around with his arm linked in yours.

He’d taken you to Bunch-of-Grapes briefly, so the two of you could taste wine and talk as freely as you wished. Not to mention it was the perfect place for people watching. The two of you mused behind glasses over just who the lady in the corner was waiting for, or made snide comments about the portly man who talked yelled for his drinks and obnoxiously tapped his glass with a spoon to get attention. He’d then taken you through the town, hand on your lower back as he spoke of London and his late father.

It was so mesmerizing to watch him speak. Yes, you did listen to his words and gave the necessary comments, but there was something about watching the man’s mouth move. You could see his jaw shift beneath his skin, and his eyes glazed over when he spoke about his family and what his life was like. He used his free hand to emphasize his thoughts, and he occasionally looked down to you to offer a smile. You wrapped your arm around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder.

Once the night wore on, Haytham asked you if you’d like to head home, and a tired nod had him smiling. The two of you made your way back to the carriage, and you rested on him as it made its way back to your home. He idly stroked your hair, causing your eyes to flutter and your hands to tighten on his overcoat.

Had you expected the night to turn out this way? No, but you wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t pleasant. Perhaps it was the wine that had relaxed you early on into the night, or perhaps it was how Haytham’s emotions had come to light. Either way, you found yourself comfortable with him, to the point where he could touch you without you tensing.

“We’re here,” he whispered, lightly shaking you.

You gave a sleepy moan, opening your eyes and sitting up a bit straighter. Taking his hand, you allowed him to help you from the carriage, your tired feet unsteady. He paid the driver, and soon the man was driving off into the night.

“You’re not taking it home?” you questioned, rubbing the sleep from your eye.

He sighed through his nose, turning back to you with a bright smile. “I’m not staying terribly far away from here, and the night air is pleasant.”

You gave a small nod, turning back toward your house and moving to unlock it. He stood just behind you, that hand of his rubbing small circles on your back. Once the door was unlocked and halfway open, you glanced back at him. He was watching you carefully, that smile on his lips. However, his eyes were flicking over every feature nervously, his thoughts no doubt crazed.

He bit his lip, ducking his head down slightly. “Would you mind if I…?”

You smiled softly, turning around and grasping his overcoat. “I would mind if you didn’t.”

He sighed out a laugh before dipping down, his hand coming under your chin to angle your lips toward him. They soon met, and your grip tightened on his clothing. It was small, chaste, but it made your stomach do flips. Just how long had it been since you’d had any romantic interaction? Something this simple shouldn’t have you sinking into it, yet your legs suddenly felt heavy and you were pressing against him. He inhaled sharply, his hands moving to grasp your hips.

You groaned under his touch, tugging his coat to force his mouth harder onto yours. He tried to laugh, but it was soon swallowed up by a deep moan as you opened your mouth, teasing his lower lip. Those hands tightened on your hips, fingers prominent even beneath the layers you wore. Unfortunately, the two of you soon had to break for air. Not that you strayed far, of course.

“You’re awfully bold tonight,” Haytham mused, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Must be the good company,” you teased, “Are you still walking home?”

He huffed, one hand slinking from your wrist to wrap around your back. He pressed your torsos together, craning his neck so he could look down at you. “Well, the prospect does seem less enticing than what I have before me.”

“And if I were to offer for you to come in and stay the night?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.”

You let go of his coat, splaying your fingers over his jaw and running your finger over his lips. “Then I’m offering.”

It didn’t take much to have the two of you stumbling through the doorway; Haytham unceremoniously kicked the door shut, hands roving over you like a child with a new toy. You laughed brightly, wrapping an arm around his neck as he leaned down to nibble on your neck.

He hummed against you, placing an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse. “You never did show me around the rest of your home.”

“I never invited you.”

He pulled back, licking his lips. “A shame, really. And if I were to ask?”

“I might be inclined to.”

“Then I’m asking,” he mimicked, turning you around and pinning your arms behind your back. “Might you show me the bedroom, then?”

“Haytham!” you gasped, wriggling your arms, but he had a tight hold on them.

“I’m _asking_.”

You huffed, but began to move your feet forward nonetheless. He frogmarched you along, despite your annoyed protests. Really, even though he wasn’t hurting you, he could handle you a lot nicer. But perhaps he was just ensuring he wasn’t teased for a second longer. He had been waiting terribly long for this, of course.

He did eventually let go of you so you could open the door, but you only had a moment’s release from him. He was soon spinning you around, holding onto your shoulder with one arm before using the other to push the door closed. Then he was walking you back toward your bed, distracting you with a kiss.

Your legs hit the edge of the bed and you were both tumbling over. He braced himself on his elbows before he crashed down on top of you, but he didn’t look too bothered at all. Instead, he was smiling down at you, looking terribly cheery at the situation.

“You’re trouble, Haytham,” you muttered, pursing your lips and pulling your head back before he could kiss you again.

“Mmm,” he hummed, “But I have a feeling you knew that when you first met me. Am I wrong?”

No, he wasn’t. After all, a Londoner in southern Boston could be nothing but trouble. You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him down, your faces separated by mere inches. It made you a bit cross-eyed to look at him, but so was he. If you were silly together, then was there any silliness at all?

“I think you talk too much.”

“I talk too much?” He sounded slightly offended. “Now—“

You kissed him before he could protest further. He made a small noise of surprise, but didn’t bother to pull back. Quite on the contrary—he pushed against you, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. You obliged, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. You tangled yours with him, groaning as you tilted your head for better access. Still, you couldn’t allow him too much fun.

So you pulled back, licking your lips to break the small string of saliva that connected your lips. “See? You talk an awful lot.”

He grinned. “Touché, madam.”

He pushed off of you, moving to unbutton his overcoat and remove his cape. You noted the sweat on his brow, despite your adventure only just beginning. You leaned up onto your elbows, crossing your leg at the knee as you watched him curiously.

“Haytham?” He hummed in acknowledgement, slipping his cape off of his shoulders. It hit the floor with a heavy thunk. “Why on earth do you wear so many layers?”

“A man has to keep up his appearances.” After his overcoat met with the cape, he undid the buttons to his blood-red vest as well, though he didn’t both to take it off quite yet. Instead, he removed the ribbon and cravat around his neck, letting out a relieved sigh as his body cooled off.

“Does his appearance include looking like he labored a day in the shipyard?”

He narrowed his eyes, turning more fully to you. “Mind your cheek,” he whispered, stalking toward you. You hurriedly pulled yourself up and away from him, sliding across the sheets until you lay against the headboard. He growled, following you until he was hovering over you on his hands and knees. Your thighs clenched.

His eyes roved over your body, still clad in the dress. He sighed, running his fingers down your neck and toward the tops of your breasts. Your breath hitched in your throat as he fiddled with the white ruffles outlining them.

“I do quite like you in blue,” he mused, dipping his fingers slightly under the fabric, “But I do believe I’m going to have to discard this.”

His other hand came up, and both moved down to unclip your stomacher. You breathed out, finally able to at least catch a decent breath for the first time that night. His chest rumbled with a chuckle as he set the stiff piece off to the side, running his hands up and down your sides. You sighed against his touch.

His wicked fingers wandered down further, spreading over your hips, down your thighs, and toward your ankles where the end of the dress lay. He grasped it, pulling it up and up, stopping only when he reached your thighs. Even though you had stockings and a shift to cover your lowest parts, you still couldn’t help the light blush that teased your face.

“Help me, will you?” It took you a few moments, but you were soon lifting your hips so he was able to slide the dress beneath them. A gentle hand against your back had you sitting up, and soon the elegant gift he’d given you joined his clothes on the floor.

You fell back onto your elbows, pushing your thighs together as you looked up at him. Though your bodice, shift, and the like weren’t as nice as the dress he’d just removed, his eyes still looked over you like you were something to eat. He bit the inside of his cheek, fingers teasing the laces on the front of your bodice.

“I will admit,” he sighed out, his voice sounding breathless, “I may have fantasized about this night on more than one occasion.”

You snickered, raising your eyebrows. “Are you really that lewd?”

Haytham rolled his tongue along his teeth, roughly hooking his fingers into the laces and making you gasp. “I told you to mind your cheek, did I not?”

“Mm, but I do think I like it when you’re rough.”

“And her thoughts are revealed.” His fingers deftly undid the bodice, and you arched your back so he could pull it from beneath you. You were beginning to feel awfully naked, and he was still looking so clothed. You grasped his vest, your breaths coming out a bit faster.

He paused his movements, sitting back on his heels as you pulled yourself up. You shirked the vest off of his shoulders, running your hands down his toned arms. Once the material was discarded, you leaned forward, pressing a kiss on his Adam’s apple. It bobbed beneath your lips.

You pulled the material of his shirt from his pants, the white fabric billowing over the tops of his thighs. A few buttons undone at the top and soon that was off of his as well, leaving his chest bare to your eyes. You sucked in a harsh breath, biting your lip.

Who knew he was so fit beneath all of those layers? From the way you’d dressed, you’d considered him someone of little busywork. Instead, here was a pleasant surprise, one that had you running your fingers along his chest. He hissed between clenched teeth, grasping your wrists. You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Your hands are freezing,” he chided, moving to push them back toward your own chest.

You grinned. “Warm them up for me.” You quickly dove forward, pressing them into his neck. He scrunched down, making an annoyed noise. You wrestled with him briefly, but it took no real effort for him at all to pin your arms above your head. He glared down at you, his eyes only narrowing further when you wiggled beneath him.

“I’ll put you over my knee if you do that again.”

As uniquely nice as that sounded, you figured it would probably be in your better interest to play along with him. So you huffed out a ‘fine,’ and Haytham released your wrists. He went for your shoes, gently wiggling them off of your feet and dropping them off the side of the bed. Your stockings went next, causing you to yipe with how quickly he pulled them down.

The cool night air bit into your skin, causing goosebumps to rise on your legs. He didn’t give you much chance to recover, shirking you from your shift and diving down to nibble your neck. You gasped, wiggling beneath him with a whine.

“Give me a moment!” you cried out, pushing on his chest until he rose above you, propped up on your hands. You glare did cause his face to soften slightly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to move so fast. I’m just… So _eager_ to see you.”

That was flattering, but you’d also quite like to see him out of his clothes. You voiced such concerns to him, and he gave a small nod. Pulling off of you, he sat on the edge of the bed. He moved rather quickly, shoes and calf stocking coming off quickly. He then lay on his back, undoing his belt and pushing his breeches off. He groaned as the fabric scraped along the obvious hard-on that strained against his underclothes.

He slowly moved back to you, shifting carefully until he was placed between your legs. Haytham slowly leaned down, pressing his lips into yours in a chaste kiss.

“Is this better?” he murmured upon pulling back, his hand sliding beneath your undershirt.

All you could manage was a small nod, and then he was pulling the fabric from you. His mouth followed it, open-mouthed kisses teasing your stomach, the underside of your breasts, as well as the top of them. He purposefully ignored your nipples, which were standing attentively toward him. He merely discarded your undershirt, licking his lips as he stared down at you.

“Beautiful.” His head ducked down again, and he was sucking a bruise onto the top of your breast. You moaned, pressing your chest into him as your hand came to card through his hair, loosening the red ribbon that held it back so tightly. He softly bit into the soft tissue of your breast, causing you to shudder.

Once satisfied, he pulled back, giving a small lick to the hickey. A glance down showed you’d easily be able to cover it with your blouse, but it would definitely remain there for a few days. Haytham moved down to your nipple, capturing it in his mouth with a harsh suck. You shivered, grasping his hair tighter.

“Mmm,” you moaned, breathing heavily through your nose. You could feel his grin against your skin, but it did little to dissuade you from the noises that spilled from your lips. After teasing your nipple with his teeth, he popped it free, advancing onto the other. The way his tongue wiggled over the buds had your toes curling and your brows bunching together.

He would have continued longer, but no doubt he could sense your annoyance after some time. After all, as nice as it was to have his mouth on your breasts, you would really prefer it in other places. He smiled up at you, placing gentle kisses down your stomach as his fingers teased with the waistband of your underclothes.

He was soon sliding them off, his light eyes shifting down to observe what was revealed. You curled slightly under his scrutiny, but he pressed his hands into your thighs, keeping them open. His eyes roamed over your exposed mound, and you let out an uneasy whine. Tearing his gaze away, he glanced to you.

“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of,” he whispered, the back of his fingers coming to lightly stroke your slit.

“I-I know,” you stuttered out, hands uselessly clenching into the sheets below you, “It’s just that when you stare at me like that…”

He hummed, wriggling further down the bed so his head was level with your cunt. “Like what?” he mused, lightly biting the inside of your thigh. You jerked.

“You know what!”

His shoulders shook slightly with laughter, but he was soon directing all of his attention to your wetness. He slowly, slowly leaned forward, sliding his tongue out and teasing it against your folds. You sucked in a deep breath, hands immediately going to clench into his hair. He hissed slightly under your tight hold, and you loosened it, instead rubbing circles against his scalp.

Once you were a little less rough with him, his hands came up to grip your hips and pull you closer to him so he could settle into his work. You whined through sealed lips, canting your hips up against him as his lips wrapped around your clit. God, no man should be allowed a tongue that talented. It was absolutely sinful.

Yet here Haytham was, talent and all. And, my, how he used it. Small moans escaped him as he laved his tongue across the bundle of nerves before dipping down, tasting more of your sweetness. Sighs and moan escaped you, ringing sharp in the cool night air. Yet he continued, hands slipped from your hips to your ass so his thumbs could spread you open to him.

You both groaned as he slipped his tongue inside of you, the tip of it testing around, feeling you out. You growled between your teeth, running your fingers through his hair. The ribbon was doing little by now, his dark hair now tickling your thighs. He didn’t seem bothered at all, merely continuing his actions against you.

It was incredible how he never seemed to tire. Instead, he was content to switch between your entrance and your clit, giving each the attention they deserved. Your own tongue would have been exhausted by now, but Haytham continued. Perhaps it was to ensure your pleasure. If so, he was doing a fine job, for your orgasm was certainly imminent. He could sense it was well, and he was soon focusing his mouth against your opening while fingers came up to toy with your clit.

You hissed, toes curling and thighs rising up. Your head was flung back into the pillows, your hands wound into his smooth tresses. He offered moans of encouragement, rubbing your clit faster to bring you closer and closer to your peak. You were balancing atop of it, the heat in your stomach nearly uncomfortable. You wanted to wriggle away from him, but you wouldn’t let yourself. Nor would he let go of you.

He held you close, wriggling his tongue inside of you further, awaiting your impending climax. And it soon came, washing over you like a steaming wave. You let out a long groan, your fingers tightening painfully into his hair as your thighs closed around his head. He didn’t voice his pain, instead drinking up what your orgasm had to offer. He was moaning against you, cleaning you incessantly and teasing his tongue over every inch of your folds, ensuring he got every last bit of your cum.

Satisfied, he pulled back from you, licking his lips. They were slick, wet, and his cheeks were flushed. His breath came out quickly as he sat back on his heels, and you noted how his breeches had been pulled down to his thighs. When had that happened? Either way, it looked like he’d been fisting his erection, for it was red and swollen, just begging for its own release.

He wrapped his hand around it, sliding it up and down the shaft a few times as you stared down at you. All you could do was shudder out a breath, one hand reaching toward him.

“Haytham.”

He didn’t move. He only continued rubbing himself, his wrist twisting as he narrowed his eyes, mouth open.

“Haytham, _please_.”

He moved to where he was hovering over you. You could smell the scent of you on his breath, and you rose up to give him a kiss. He pulled back, not allowing you to close the distance.

“What do you want?” he breathed out. You could still hear the sound of him working his cock.

“Come on—“

“Tell me.”

It seemed he wasn’t going to let you out of this one. Instead, you would have to submit yourself to him. He wouldn’t take you unless you explicitly instructed him to. He’d been listening to your wishes all along, and this was no different. While your pleasure was at the forefront of his mind, he needed to know you were still okay with this. With everything.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, and your arm came to latch around the back of his neck. He made a small noise in his throat, but his eyes did not waver from you. And you met that gaze back with full force.

“Fuck me, Haytham.”

And then he was. He was kicking his underclothes off completely and sliding into you, and it had both of you gasping. He shifted, bracing himself on his elbows and ducking his head down, pressing into you for a heady kiss. You could taste yourself on him, and your moans were lost into his mouth as he began slowly thrusting. Your tongues tangled, your hips connected, and his hand found yours to grasp it.

He broke from you, breaths labored as he moved to kiss and bite along your neck, leaving a trail of red marks. You sighed against him, fingers tightening around his hand. It was a little uncomfortable, how his weight forced the back of your hand hard into the sheets. However, being able to hold onto him like this brought on a whole new level of intimacy, and you needed him.

Had you known your night would turn out like this, would you have stopped it? You didn’t think so. Perhaps you had actually already assumed this would happen. Perhaps not this quick or exactly like this, but you guessed it would have eventually happened. Haytham and you had a mutual attraction toward one another, as well as the shared will to tease. It would have been inevitable for either of you to resist this. And why would you? It felt incredible.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving long, angry red marks. He moaned into your skin, briefly pulling his mouth away in order to catch his breath. His eyes briefly met yours, and you could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer. From being pent up all night, to fisting himself, to now fucking you, his orgasm had been building up. He wouldn’t be able to hold out.

His hips were snapping faster now, uneven and hard. You gasped, tossing your head against the pillows fitfully, biting onto your lip. He was settling deep inside of you, slamming against you with enough force to make the sound of your skin slapping sound harsh and painful. But he didn’t relent. His hand gripped onto yours with a great need, and his moans were low and long. With a final kiss to your lips, he pulled from you.

A few jerks of his hand and he was spilling himself onto your stomach. He hissed behind gritted teeth, and his brows were furrowed tightly together. You sighed, closing your eyes to indulge in the feeling of warm cum coating your stomach, slowly dripping down your sides and onto the sheets below. You heard him as he finally finished, and felt him as he nearly collapsed atop of you, breath hot against your neck.

Opening your eyes, you could see him staring at you, mouth wide open as he heaved out breaths. His hand was still gripping your own, though with considerable less strength than before. He simply couldn’t, now too weak from his climax. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, his eyes briefly falling shut. You free hand came up to stroke his face, and he leaned into your touch.

He soon flopped down next to you, an arm across his eyes as he worked to regain a bit of his strength. Perhaps it had been a long time for him as well, since he last had sex. It seemed neither of you simply had the time to roam the night in search of someone to warm the bed. Still, you were glad that this was with him.

Using the sheets, you cleaned off the cum from your stomach. You could wash them tomorrow, but, for now, it would suffice. Instead, you reached down, grabbing the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. You pulled it over the both of you, even if you were still a little warm from the copulating. Haytham murmured a thank you, removing his arm from his eyes as he glanced to you.

He rolled over onto his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. He nuzzled into your hair, his breaths having become a bit quieter now. You accepted his embrace, putting your own arm over him. You simply lay like that for a while, enjoying one another’s company as crickets whistled outside of your home. It was a sweet ending, one that you feared may not last. Yet he remained at your side, and it wasn’t long before his deep breaths signaled that he had drifted off to sleep.

His face was so relaxed when he slept. He normally appeared to be fairly calm when awake, but there were wrinkles and lines there that you didn’t notice until now, when they weren’t present at all. Instead he looked young, like the man he was supposed to be. Your thumb traced the circle beneath his eyes. Perhaps he would be able to sleep tonight.

You could feel that you weren’t far behind him either. Your eyes grew tired, as did your body. So you settled next to him, feeling his body heat that slithered over you. A chance meeting had brought you together, and for once you could thank fate and its strange ways. Even if this wasn’t to last, you would hold onto this moment for what it was worth.

 

* * *

 

 

The bed was cold.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, likely quite late into the day, your bed partner was nowhere to be seen. The sinking in your heart was prominent, but you shoved it aside. Instead, you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. You had expected as much, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

However, something caught your eye. On your nightstand lay a small bouquet of lavender stock flowers, sweet-smelling even from this distance. Beneath them lay Haytham’s hat, and tucked in one of the folds was a piece of parchment. With a confused look, you pulled the paper from its hold, slowly opening it. Did he use your own parchment, ink, and quills?

_Dearest,_

_I hope the flowers are well-received. I was unaware of what type you would like, but I made sure to arise early this morning to ensure they would be there for you when you awoke. I know not how long I spoke with the woman running the shop about the many different meanings of flowers. She insisted that the flower language was important, and that these would likely appeal most to you. She never explicitly told me what they meant, so forgive me if they offend._

_I’m sorry I could not be there this morning. I knew last night that I had duties to attend in the morning, yet I wished to stay with you for as long as I could. If I had the chance, I would have woken you up with breakfast made and a day planned for the two of us. Still, I am unable to know if you would even want such affections. If they are unwanted, I do apologize for such thoughts._

_I wrote this letter to thank you. Not for the night or for our copulation, but for being so willing to put up with my rather frivolous actions. It has been so long since I’ve found someone I am able to so freely communicate with. While I have made friends since arriving to Boston, none have I grown so close to as you. I often feel as if I am ever at unease, that you will listen to me. You may tease me for showing such emotions, but I know that in the end you are an open ear._

_I had to force myself to simply write this letter from the heart and not use all of your parchment and ink, so forgive me if it’s a bit difficult to follow. There is so much I want to say, but I understand that I must keep it relatively short. For now, I have left you my hat. I want you to have it. Trust me, I did not go out and buy a new one simply to give to you. I was already running late after the shopkeeper insisted I listen to her every explanation._

_I can always buy myself a new one, but I feel as if this hat is somehow important to you. When you first asked for it, I will admit that I did feel extremely annoyed. However, over time, I began to find myself waiting for the next time I needed your help. So I began making up lies so I could simply talk to you and let you borrow my hat. It seems childish, but I suppose each man is a boy at heart._

_Before I waste the rest of your ink, I suppose I should finish this letter. I am eager to see you again if you’re willing. I have very much enjoyed my time spent with you, and I would like no more to continue our days together. Even after this event if you would like to remain friends, I understand. It is only my hope that our affections are mutual._

_If they are, then could you please tell me how to get to the café on the corner of 12th and Woodes in northern Boston?_

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy, this ran a lot longer than I expected it to. This was a request by DarkChocolateCheesecake (who, if you're not already, should really follow for some incredible AC stories), and I kind of ran off with it. But here it is, with Haytham in all his glory.
> 
> I do take requests! While I might not be able to get to all of them, I'll write for Assassin's Creed, Overwatch, Star Wars, and Marvel. Hell, I wouldn't be completely opposed to writing for a different fandom, so long as I had enough information.
> 
> Again, thank you guys so much for reading! It means the world to me. Toodles!


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